


Who the Hell is Iwa-chan?

by pancake_surprise, yonastar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Humor, M/M, Nobody Dies, avengers infinity war and endgame au, gratuitous references to the lord of the rings, it's not sad I promise, komori is a meme, others tag along, suga and oikawa team up to save the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28455843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_surprise/pseuds/pancake_surprise, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonastar/pseuds/yonastar
Summary: With only Sugawara Koushi remaining after the rest of the Karasuno boys volleyball team are dusted, it's up to him to join forces with the remaining members of other teams to save everyone.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	Who the Hell is Iwa-chan?

**Author's Note:**

> we've been writing this for over a year when today i decided i couldn't take it anymore and worked on it frantically- pancake_surprise
> 
> tbh, this is my favorite fic i've ever written because i wrote it with my best friend nat

The ball glides over the net with ease. Tsukishima reaches for it, all six feet of his gangly limbs but the ball only seems to soar higher, out of reach. Suga watches with barely concealed amusement as the ball sails straight out the gymnasium door.

"Idiot Hinata! What was that!" Kageyama yells before the ball even reaches the ground.

Suga hides his grin behind his hand. Not even extra practice is dull with Hinata and Kageyama around. 

"Sorry!" Hinata says. He turns on his heels and takes off for the doorway the volleyball rolled through moments before.

"Sorry, Vice Captain Sugawara!" Kageyama profuses louder than is strictly necessary. 

Suga smiles. "Relax Kageyama, it's just the warm-up. You can loosen up a bit." 

Kageyama's face reddens.

Suga laughs again, this time not bothering to hide it. 

"Why don't you go see what's taking Hinata so long, hmm?"

Kageyama bows once and then takes off toward the hallway, undoubtedly thinking that Suga can't hear him muttering "idiot Hinata" all the way. 

Suga takes a moment to survey where Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are finishing up their own warm up. 

"Uh, Sugawara-san?" 

"I can't find Hinata." Kageyama is rubbing one hand up and down the opposite arm and looking at the ground. "I found the volleyball though."

Suga frowns, turning briefly back to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. 

"Good work! Keep it up, I'll be right back," Suga says brightly. "Kageyama just come finish the-" 

Kageyama is gone.

The door to the hallway slams shut with a metallic screech.

"Wha-" he says.

From behind, he hears another ball make contact with the ground, bouncing once. Twice. Three times.

Neither Yamaguchi or Tsukishima call out who's going to get it. No shoes squeak across the floor to the ball's final resting place. 

Suga swallows thickly. He turns slowly expecting- no, hoping- to see Yamaguchi's bashful smile or even Tsukishima's smirk. 

They aren't there. 

Something hits his feet.

The ball Kageyama brought back from the hallway. 

Suga gingerly picks the ball off the ground before it can roll away again.

He rolls it back and forth between his hands, scowl deepening.

“Bring me, Ushijima!” 

The rain has puddled into the low Tokyo street markets. It rolls off the overhanging fluorescent signs and pools on top of awnings. It's easy to slip, easy to lose sight, but not for Suga.

The man ahead of him slips, bumps into a parked car, before running across the street, water splashing at his feet. Suga leaps from the shadows and draws his katana. He hasn't lost sight of his purpose in a long time.

The man turns down an alleyway, hoping for a shortcut and instead finding a deadend. Suga follows calmly. The tip of his blade drags across the pavement, disturbing the distorted reflection of the stores above. The man turns, fearful, and in his arms is exactly what Suga wants. A volleyball, bright and new.

"Please!" the man cries. "Please, just tell me what you want!"

Wordlessly, Suga raises his sword. He points it directly at the ball nestled in his arms.

The man looks down at it and chokes back a sob. He gives Suga a desperate look. "B-but _why?"_

"No one plays," he hisses. "Not without them."

"You can't stop every game!" he protests back. "The sport will have to go on one day!"

Suga frowns behind his balaclava. Ball is life, but Suga's life ended with Ushijima's snap. His team was taken, the spirit of the sport gone, turned to ash before his eyes. He is a single black crow without its murder, and he won't let a single game resume until he has them back. He steps forward. "Not today." He rushes forward, sword poised, and the man lurches back.

The sound of the volleyball popping is drowned by the rain.

The sky rumbles and the rain falls heavier, as if the sky too is in mourning. Suga lets the cool rain wash over him. Perhaps if he stands underneath the tumultuous sky long enough the rain will wash away the sins he’s committed since the moment his baby crows vanished.

From behind Suga, footsteps too, are muffled by the rain. He turns, sword raised, ready to strike. A figure looms over him. 

“Suga,” the figure says. “It’s time.” 

Suga stands motionless. Sword gripped tighter, knuckles white.

“It’s only together that we have hope. Only together can we defeat him.” 

Suga knew it was only a matter of time before they found him. Before they tried to drag him back. Don’t they know there is no glory to be had anymore? If they can’t share the glorious game of volleyball with the baby crows, the first-years, then what’s the point of playing? 

Suga grits his teeth from underneath his balaclava. “You’re crazy. Two setters? Against an ace? It’ll never work.” 

The figure steps out of the shadows, their aquamarine hoodie finally illuminated by the lone street light. One graceful hand pushes the hood of his face and standing before Suga is the unmistakable face of Oikawa Tooru. 

“There’s a way. But only if you come with me,” says Oikawa. Oikawa would never be caught pleading on his knees under normal circumstances (at least, not unless Iwaizumi is involved), but these... these are no ordinary circumstances. “Please, Suga.” Oikawa too has something he needs to get back, people he needs to avenge.  
“Don’t,” Suga hisses through his teeth. 

“Suga,”

“No!” Suga shakes his head. Once. Twice. “Don’t give me hope.” He lowers his katana, if only a bit.

Oikawa reaches out a hand. If they can bridge this gap, cover this ground then they’ll be okay. They’ll make it through. Ordinarily, Oikawa would never shake hands with the proletariat but he needs Suga. Only together do they have half a chance of defeating him.

Suga lets the katana drop to his side. With his other hand, he tentatively reaches out.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you earlier.”

The streets are silent. But it’s not the silence that’s eerie. It’s the sounds of volleyballs striking forearms, sneakers squeaking on the freshly waxed wood floor, and the laughter of innocent first-years and second-years that neither Suga nor Oikawa can get out of their heads that haunts them. The silence taunts them, it’s all they yearn for amongst the sounds of their teammates long dusted. 

Suga nudges Oikawa with his elbow. “Hey, Oikawa, am I dreaming or is there someone up there?” Next to him, Oikawa goes rigid. 

Oikawa grits his teeth and takes off sprinting. His knee screams in pain but the adrenaline quickly quiets it to a lame howl. He stops a short ten feet from the figure.

The figure turns slightly, looking just over his shoulder. There’s no mistaking it. It’s Iwaizumi. Alive. Undusted. Un-hoovered up by the janitor’s vacuum like the rest of their teammates. 

_“Alright 4s listen up! A 10 is talking and you don’t want to miss what I’ve got to say because I’m not gonna be saying it again! And! Iwaizumi isn’t here to make me play nice.”_

_“Yo, Oikawa,” Hanamaki says, “If we're 4s and you’re a 10, then what’s Iwaizumi?”_

_“An 11, obviously. Don’t ask stupid questions.”_

_“Oikawa-san,” Kindachi says and it sounds wrong._

_“Hmm?”_

_“I...,” Kindachi wobbles on his feet, looking more than a little green in the face. “I don’t feel so good.” Kindaichi says falling right into Oikawa’s now outstretched arms._

_“Kindachi! It’s alright. It’s alright. We’re going to get you help. Get you a doctor!”_

_“I don’t want to go,” Kindachi says, lips white. Oikawa grips Kindaichi tighter, willing him to stay together but just as blank before him, he crumbles in Oikawa’s arms. Dust falling gently through the air, like the first snowfall of the season before settling on the cold gym floor._

_All the air rushes out of Oikawa’s lungs. Gone. Literally into thin air. A scream is trying to fight it’s way out of his throat but it dies before it gets there._

_“Hey, uh, Oikawa,” Matsukawa and Hanamaki say simultaneously._

_Mechanically, Oikawa turns to his fellow third years just in time to see the dust begin to overtake them._

_“Oikawa-san, it’s been an honor,” says Matsukawa as his torso crumbles into ash._

_“Another one bites the dust,” adds Hanamaki just before he too collapses into the sooty pile he will share for all eternity with Matsukawa._

_Oikawa scrambles toward them. He gets one leg underneath himself but finds himself just as quickly crumbling back to the floor, knee throbbing._

_“Makki! Mattsun!” he yells, arm outstretched. But it’s too late. They too litter the floor._

_Oikawa’s vision nearly goes white and he can’t tell if it’s from excruciating pain in his knee or the grief swallowing him whole. In the midst of it all, the gym doors fly open. Momentarily, Oikawa believes it all to be a sick dream, and the team will come bounding in, ready for practice. Instead the janitor’s cart slides into view. From the janitor’s headphones Oikawa can just barely make out the sounds of Shania Twain’s hit “Man, I Feel Like a Woman,” before he turns on the vacuum and Oikawa’s vision truly goes white._

Oikawa inhales sharply. “Iwa-chan?” 

The silence between them drags on for a long, agonizing second. Oikawa is all but transfixed. 

“Who the hell is Iwa-chan?” 

Suga catches up just as Oikawa’s face scrunches up and big, fat tears fall wildly down his face. 

“Bro, are you crying?” Suga asks. 

“Shut up!” yells Oikawa. 

“It’s okay dude.” 

“Shut up, I’m emotional okay? My best friend doesn’t even know me!” 

Oikawa takes off running in circles around the scene, tears streaming down his face. 

“Iwaizumi-san?” says Suga.

Iwaizumi’s face, which only moments ago was only a blank shell of his former self, brightens as he turns fully to face Suga. 

“Oh hey, Suga-san,’ 

Suga shoots Iwaizumi a certified Dad(TM) look, while nodding toward Oikawa. Oikawa, who is still running circles around them, wailing louder than any siren ever dared to dream.

Iwaizumi shrugs. “I put up with his bullshit every damn day. I deserve a laugh every now and then.” 

Suga pinches the bridge of his nose, somehow making Iwaizumi feel guiltier than his mother ever could.

“Oi! Idiotkawa!” he yells.

Oikawa skids to a halt. “Iwa-chan?” he blubbers. There’s snot running from his nose and tears soaking the neckline of his tee-shirt. 

Iwaizumi grimaces. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on Oikawa, no one wants to see your ugly face crying.” 

Suga thinks he must have missed something. Where tears once streaked Oikawa’s face now he practically glows. The cloud of melancholy dissipates replaced by pure sunshine. Suga stumbles backwards and squints. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa yells, delighted. And then with all the grace of a newborn deer, Oikawa throws himself into the waiting arms of Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Iwaizumi says like it’s a chore but even Suga can see that he returns Oikawa’s hug just as tightly. 

“Iwa-chan, they’re all gone,” and just as quickly as Oikawa’s mood brightened moments ago, it falls even deeper into a pit of despair. “I lost them, Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa tighter against him. “I know. I should have been there.”

“I couldn’t save them.” 

“We’ll save them now.” 

“How?” Oikawa blubbers.

“That’s why we're in Washington D.C. I know someone who can help us out.” 

Suga stands an uncomfortable mere three feet away from the Seijou third years’ bittersweet Washington D.C. reunion. Suga whistles, rocking back and forth on his heels, and twiddling his thumbs while Oikawa pretends that he isn’t sniffling again and Iwaizumi attempts to maintain his tough-cool guy-macho aesthetic while somehow pulling Oikawa even closer still. It’s heartwarming- nauseatingly adorable- and stabs Suga right in the gut. 

When Oikawa found Suga in that dark, dank Tokyo alley, he thought they were the same; he thought they’d experienced the same heartbreak in the Great Dusting. Suga lost _everything._ He lost his baby crows- Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima- he lost his friends- Tanaka, Noya, Ennoshita, Narita, and Kinoshita. He lost Daichi- and his Thunder Thighs to boot. 

Oikawa told Suga he lost everything. But here they are in Washington D.C- the city where dreams come true- Oikawa gets to reunite with his best friend, his (volley)ball partner- and what does Suga have? Memories and an insatiable desire for revenge. His ducklings, his friends, his... thunder thighs... they will all be avenged if it’s the last thing he does. 

Mr. Nick Samuel Frozone Jackson Fury is an intimidating man. But in times like these, a little intimidation is necessary. “There was an idea,” he says in his thunderous, booming voice. “an idea to create a team.... And another team. And another team.” 

“Yes,” Suga says. “That’s generally how a league works.” 

Fury shoots him a look. 

Suga shoots one right back. He’s done playing around. He’s lost... too much.

“As I was saying,” Fury pauses. “Before, the world wasn’t ready for these teams. The World Security Council wouldn’t approve it. But times are changing, the world needs saving, and I’m afraid you boys are the best we’ve got.” 

“Obviously,” Oikawa says, wrinkling his nose and flipping his hair. “That’s why we came to the uh... beautiful city of Washington D.C.”

“The city of dreams,” Suga chimes in.

“Right, sure,” says Fury. “You three aren’t enough to take Ujushima on alone. If you want to save your friends,” 

Suga swallows. He wants to correct the man before him- they aren’t just his friends- they’re his ducklings, his team, his family... his Daichi. 

“If you want to save your friends,” says Fury, “You’ll need help.” 

Oikawa scoffs. He’s never needed a lick of help in his entire life. “Bold of y-” but before he can finish his sentence Suga elbows him hard in the ribs. He shoots him a glare cold enough to freeze even Asahi’s warm heart. 

“Thank you, Mr. Nick Samuel Frozone Jackson Fury, we appreciate your help immensely,” Suga says bowing quickly. 

“Please, boys,” says Fury, “Mr. Nick Samuel Frozone Jackson Fury is my father. Call me ShieldDaddy.” 

“Of course, thank you ShieldDaddy,” says Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa shoots him a look that clearly says, _we’ll talk about this later._

“The rest of your team is here now.” 

Where a wall once stood solid and strong, a gaping hole erupts and from the shadows emerge four silhouettes. Slowly. Painfully slow. In fact, Suga isn’t even sure they’re moving at one point. 

“They like the drama,” ShieldDaddy whispers. “Give them a minute.” 

The minute passes by at an agonizing pace; in the meantime, Oikawa takes to poking Iwaizumi in the shoulder every seventh second. Suga thinks of all the ways he can crush Ushijima- his body, his mind, his... volleyball. 

“Shittykawa, if you don’t st-”

“Hey, hey, HEY!” 

Suga’s heart drops. 

“Oya oya!” 

“Oh fuck,” Suga says under his breath. 

From the beyond the wall, the four figures finally emerge. Standing side-by-side are Kenma, Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi. 

“Oh thank god at least Akaashi is here. It’s about time another brain cell joined this squad,” says Oikawa.

“Bold of you to assume you have a brain cell,” says Iwaizumi. 

“Wait, how the hell do you even know Akaashi?”

“There are four stones," ShieldDaddy says, ignoring the original question. 

“Stones?” asks Suga. 

“Did I fucking stutter?” says Fury. “Yes, four stones. They represent the four strongest volleyball teams this world has ever seen and together they are unstoppable. Ujushima was jealous of that volleyball clout but he doesn’t know their locations yet. If you can collect the stones before Ushijima, then perhaps all of this can change.” 

“Some gosh-dang rocks!? All the volleyball teams in the world are halved by a... a monster? And all you have for advice is to find some hecking rocks! Find the rocks and do what?” says Suga, suddenly furious.

“As I was saying,” says Fury. “You must take them to Mt. Fuji and toss them into the fire. Only then will true balance be restored.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” says Bokuto “you’re telling me that Mt. fucking Fuji is an active volcano?” 

Suga looks into the fourth wall like he’s in the office, in the distance, crickets chirp.

“Hella,” says ShieldDaddy. “Find the stone and Mt. fucking Fuji will do the rest. She’s always looking out.” 

“What a fucking icon,” says Oikawa.

“One more thing,” ShieldDaddy says when they turn to leave. “Look out for more. There are others out there who will rally to your cause. Be ready when they arrive.” 

“Oooh-kayyy,” Oikawa draws out the sound like he’s never heard of teamwork before. “How will we know we can trust these guys?” 

“When you meet them, you’ll know. There is a saying. The saying that defines all of you. Ask for the password and you’ll know.” 

“Alrighty then,” Kuroo adjusts his Nekoma track jacket. “We’ve got some stones to find and some ass to kick.” 

Bokuto punches the air. “Hell yeah!” 

“Okay,” says Suga. “I think I got this narrowed down to our four best options. Each stone represents a team, right?”

They all nod. 

“So, if they each represent the raw, unfiltered essence of each of our teams then the stones are obviously hidden in places that represent GAMEBOYS, a knee brace, an owl plush, and pork buns.” 

Oikawa wrinkles his nose. They all lack a certain glamour he was expecting. Afterall, they are infinity _stones_ , right? Stones as in gemstones. As in diamonds, and rubies, and emeralds, oh my. He glances down at his knee. At least the knee brace will be easy to find.

“Wait, wait, wait, who the hell is best represented by pork buns?” 

Suga looks off into the distance. A nearby crow squawks, unfurling its wings, and lifting off toward the setting sun. 

They stand like that for far longer than is comfortable for any of them. But it’s clear that Suga is having a _moment_ so they potentially wait for Suga to return from whatever emotional journey he’s on.

Eventually, Suga’s gaze moves from the sky to the ground, but not before the sun dipped below the horizon. 

“The pork buns,” he manages before his lip quivers and he falls silent.

“The pork buns?” Kuroo says as gently as possible.

“The pork buns,” Suga says again. “The pork buns,” 

Suga tries again and again, each time barely making it through the first three words of his sentence. “They’re my crows,” Suga says finally, shoulders shaking and fists clenched. 

It’s not until a lone figure appears in the distance that Suga is broken from his reverie. It’s impossible to say who it is from this distance but one thing is certain, he’s tall, dark, and handsome. 

“A thug!” Oikawa dives behind Iwaizumi. “We have to get out of here we have work to do and I don’t want to cross paths with-oh wait, that’s just-”

A smile breaks out across Suga’s face. It’s blinding. After all he’s been through, all that he’s witnessed, he never thought he’d be able to smile this way again. Genuine. Warm. Excited. 

“It’s,” he throws a fist into the air. “Our ace!” 

The figure stops in front of their rag tag group. It is indeed none other than Azumane Asahi, Karasuno’s ace. 

“I thought I was the only one left!” Suga punches Asahi square in the chest. “Holy shit, don’t scare me like that! I thought you died!” he drags him down by the collar and ruffles Asahi’s hair like an annoying older brother. On the Karasuno boys volleyball team, Suga is everyone’s older brother. He’s on the team for three reasons 1) without volleyball, there is nothing, 2) to look hot, and 3) be the older brother everybody needs and nobody wants. It’s not much but it’s honest work. 

Asahi clutches his chest. “Jeez, Suga, ow.” He smiles. “I’m glad to see you too.” 

“Well isn’t this a touching reunion,” Kuroo says with a smirk. “Glad to see you’re okay, Azumane. We can always use more muscle on the team.” 

“Oh, well, I don’t know that I’m much of a fighter but I’ll help in any way that I can.”

“That’s all we wanted to hear,” Kenma says without looking up from his PSP. 

They split into teams. Suga, Asahi, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa form one, Bokuto and Akaashi make the other, and finally, Kuroo and Kenma. They each set out to find a stone; the one that represents each of their individual teams. Suga, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa must find two. And they must do it quickly if they have any chance of stopping Ushijimia.

For some, finding their stone is remarkably easy. 

Kuroo glances down at Kenma. “So… Nekoma’s stone is a GameBoy(™), right? How the fuck are we supposed to find a goddamn GameBoy in the year of our Catholic Lord 2013?”

Kenma doesn’t respond. He plugs his hands into his pockets and begins rummaging around.

Kuroo sighs. “This is because you always play Pokemon during practice. We could’ve had something cool like a crystal cat, like some Indiana Jones shit, but you--what are you doing?”

Kenma digs in his bag and pulls out his Gameboy(™) and dangles the system enticingly in front of Kuroo’s eyes. “This it?”

“Oh, fuck.” Kuroo takes it and squints into the empty cartridge slot. “Dope. Job completed. Let’s mosey.” 

Kenma nods. “We should probably find Akaashi and Bokuto.” 

“Give ‘em a hand. Great idea!” 

Akaashi and Bokuto are not having a Good Time. Even with Kenma and Kuroo rallying to their cause, they are more than a little lost. After all, there are hundreds, thousands, MILLIONs, of owl plushies in this world. Hell, there’s at least 12 in Bokuto’s bedroom alone. That’s why they’ve traveled to precisely that location. 

“So one of these is evil, huh?” Kuroo taps a finger on his chin, taking stock of the 12 owl plushies laid out on the bed. 

Bokuto whimpers. “My owls...betrayed me?” 

Akaashi pats him on the arm. “No, it’s not evil. It’s what it was used for that is evil.” 

“Right,” Bokuto swipes at his eyes. 

“How the hell are we supposed to figure out which one?” Kenma pokes the one in the middle with his PSP. As expected, the owl plush does absolutely nothing in response to Kenma’s poking and prodding. 

“I guess we could try-”

The doorbell rings. None of them move. The door opens anyway. 

“Is that?” 

Five new players have entered the game. 

The one in front whips off a pair of bitchin’ sunglasses. “What the fuck is up-” he runs a hand through his hair. “Heard the world is gonna burn or something?” 

Akaashi sighs and it’s the longest suffering sigh that’s ever been sighed in the history of the world. “Komori.” 

“Hell yeah boyyyyy,” Komori drags out the sound. He keeps dragging out the sound. He drags out the sound for so long that entire civilizations have risen and fallen while they wait. It only ends when Sakusa, bless him, delivers a well-timed slap to his face. 

“Focus,” he growls. “And also I’m sorry for hitting you.” He shoves his hands deep into his track jacket pocket. 

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Kuroo says, standing to his full height as the other three push their way inside. 

“Don’t ya mean _fox,”_ the one with the atrocious yellow dye job says. 

Both of the newcomers smack him on the shoulder. 

“Don’t ya know it’s insulting either way? Jeez, Tsumu.” 

“We don’t get dragged in anywhere, not by a fox or a cat.” 

“Whatever.” 

“Not to interrupt,” Kenma says. “But I’m going to interrupt. We’re kind of on a tight schedule here. Who are you-” 

“Don’t you recognize the neon?” Akaashi says. 

“Itachiyama,” Kenma says. 

“Damn right.” Komori says, finger guns a-blazing.

“And they’re from-”

“Inarizaki,” the remaining trio finish for him. 

“I’m Atsumu, this is my brother, Osamu. And this is Sunarin. Heard ya have an owl problem.” 

Akaashi’s eyes narrow. He elbows Bokuto and nods. 

“Wait,” Kuroo takes a step forward. “How do we know we can trust you? ShieldDaddy warned us there are both friends and foe out in the world.” 

“Hey!” Atsumu shouts. “Ya can trust us! We’re trustworthy people!” 

“Your school mascot is literally a fox,” Kenma says. “We’re not about to get bamboozled like an episode of Dora the Explorer.” 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Komori throws his hands up and steps between the Inarizaki boys and the rest of the assembled crew. “You can trust me on this one, my dudes, these guys are nothing but trustworthy. And we’re gonna need all the help we can get if we’re gonna stop this asteroid from hitting earth and destroying all we love and hold dear.” 

“A _WHAT?”_ Bokuto rocks up onto his tip toes and nearly falls over with the momentum. “ShieldDaddy didn’t say ANYTHING about an asteroid!” 

“That’s because there isn’t one,” Sakusa pushes Komori out of the way. “And if you want to know if we’re trustworthy-” 

“Say it.” Akaashi grits his teeth. 

“Ball. Is. Life.” Sakusa deadpans. 

Akaashi reels back like he’s been slapped but there’s a sly grin tugging his lips upward. “Excellent. Glad to have you aboard. Now, how can you help us with this owl conundrum?” 

“Oh, that’s easy,” Suna says. “Lead the way.” 

Suna eyes the lineup. 

There’s the first owl plush Bokuto ever received. It was his birthday. He was turning five and his grandmother wrapped it in purple wrapping paper. Next, there’s the owl he won from the claw machine at the arcade. Followed by the owl plush he found abandoned in the park. He couldn’t just leave it there after all. He goes down the line, explaining the history, the story, the personality of each and every owl. 

When he’s done, Suna walks the line. Up then down. Up. Down. Back. Again. He stops in front of the 8th owl. “It’s this one.” 

“How can ya be sure?” Osamu sidles up next to him. 

“Don’t you see? Stare into its eyes.” 

Osamu does. He stares, scrunches his eyes up, and leans closer. Nothing. It’s just a stuffed owl. 

“Don’t you get it? Stare into the void,” Suna says. 

“The void stares back,” Kenma finishes for him. “That’s the owl.” 

“How the fuck did ya know that?” Osamu scrutinizes the owl for the second time.

“It’s obvious, Samu,” Atsumu slings an arm around his shoulder. “It’s the hair. Sunarin’s hair is so big because that’s where the secrets of the universe are stored.” 

Osamu looks at Suna who shrugs and hands the owl to Akaashi. “Got it, we can get out of here now.” 

“Eggcelent,” Komori punches the air. 

“Oh, hell yeah, brother!” Bokuto says, mirroring him. “Time to rock and roll.” 

“Did you find them?” Suga asks, hesitant. Scared. 

Akaashi nods. 

“We got the goods,” says Bokuto. 

“God fucking bless,” says Oikawa. “Put it here.” Oikawa says, pointing to the infinity kneepad. 

“We only need Nekoma’s stone and then we’ll have them all,” Iwaizumi says, somber.

“Wait,” Bokuto says. “What happened to Kuroo and Kenma? They were with us a minute ago, right Akaashi?” 

Akaashi nods. “We lost them a short while back. Remember? We split up to make us less vulnerable targets.” 

“Ah, right,” Bokuto scratches his chin. “It’s all coming back to me now. How quickly I forget.” 

And so they wait. And wait. And wait. 

In the distance, a light appears. It grows steadily brighter. And brighter. 

A ping sounds, reverberating off the surrounding landscape. 

“I know that sound,” Iwaizumi mutters. He looks at Akaashi for confirmation. There's only one other brain cell here right now and it’s Akaashi’s. Akaashi nods, confirming his suspicions. 

“That’s a motherfucking gameboy,” says Suga, lip quivering. It’s about to end. He can see the light at the end of the tunnel, soon his struggles will all end. He’ll have back his kouhai, his crows... his kids. His ... ... ... Thunder Thighs. 

“Ah-hah, you know what that means,” says Oikawa. 

“Yeah, dumbass,” Iwaizumi growls, slapping Oikawa upside the head, “we finally have all the infinity stones.” 

“Oh,” says Oikawa, dropping the bravado. “You mean?” he swallows.

“Yeah,” says Iwaizumi, smiling weakly. “We’re going to get them all back.” 

For a moment, Oikawa is transported back to the gym at Aoba Johsai, _Man I Feel Like a Woman_ , ringing in his ears. He inhales sharply. It’s too good to believe. 

But as Kuroo and Kenma get closer, it becomes apparent that they aren’t alone. There are five more people with them. The fuck? 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“The calvary,” Atsumu says. 

“You wish ya were as cool as the calvary,” Osamu hip checks Atsumu who stumbles into Suna who knocks into Akaashi. It just keeps going. One domino after another. Akaashi into Bokuto. Bokuto into Asahi. Asahi into Iwaizumi. They all fall down like a good old fashioned round of ring-around-the-rosie. 

Which, now that Suga thinks about it, is a little disconcerting. The whole _ashes, ashes, we all fall down,_ thing hits a little too close to home for comfort. 

From there all hell breaks loose. Osamu and Atsumu are wrestling. Suna is filming. Komori and Sakusa are arguing like little kids on the playground. Oikawa is sobbing about, well, Suga isn’t really sure what he’s sobbing about but tensions are running pretty high right now so he can’t say he blames him. 

“There’s still one more battle. We still have to destroy the Infinity knee pad.” Suga tries to quell the chaos but it falls on deaf ears. 

“We’ve all lost people,” Kuroo says. “Now isn’t the time to let our frustration divide us. We have to stick together if we’re going to see this through.” 

Kenma nudges him. “Except we can’t.” 

“Hah?” 

“There isn’t just one battlefield. Like ShieldDaddy said,” 

Komori holds up a hand. “If I may interrupt, I just want to say, I don’t know who ShieldDaddy is, but at this point I’m too afraid to ask.” 

Akaashi side eyes him. “You’ve asked about Mr. Nick Samuel Frozone Jackson Fury, alias ShieldDaddy, no less than six times in the past hour alone.” 

“I don’t see your point.” 

“Of course you don’t. Kenma, please, before the dumpster fire starts raging again.” 

Komori opens his mouth but Akaashi cuts him off before he can say anything. “And, yes, before you ask, the dumpster fire is you.” 

Komori shuts his mouth. 

Sakusa snorts, hiding a laugh in the palm of his hand. “Damn, they got you.” 

“Aww, don’t worry Mori-kun,” Bokuto coos, nudging him by the shoulder. “We’re all a little bit of a dumpster fire sometimes. It’s what makes us human.” 

“Right, thank you, Bokuto-san. Now Kenma, please, for the love of all that is volleyball, what were you saying?” 

“There’s more than one battlefield. It means that some of us are going to have to stay here and fight Ushijima ourselves. Some of us are going to have to journey up Mt. Fucking Fuji to destroy the infinity kneepad. And the rest of us are going to have to fan out, ready to strike against any who would dare to stand in the way of destroying the infinity kneepad.” 

“We’ll head to the south quadrant,” Sakusa says. “Itachiyama and Inarizaki, roll out.” 

“Between the four of us,” Kuroo nods to Akaashi, Kenma, and Bokuto. “We can probably handle the north.” 

Iwaizumi nods, grim as Inarizaki, Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Itachiyama make their exit. 

“We need a distraction,” says Iwaizumi peering around the corner. They’re outside the gym. The court. Ushijima lurks inside, waiting for his next opponent. Waiting to crush them all. “We’ll never get up Mt. Fuji in time otherwise.” 

Oikawa stands. “I’ve got this. Let me handle Ushijima.” 

“Are you dumb?” Iwazumi pulls Oikawa’s elbow sharply, sending him tumbling back to the ground. “You can’t fight him with your knee.” 

“There’s only one way,” Suga hops off the floor, racing onto the court before Iwaizumi or Oikawa can stop him. 

“One final match!” Suga screams, slapping them titties in a show of absolute dominance. “You and me, Ushijima.” 

Ushijima stops. He turns slowly, painfully slow, until he’s facing Suga head on.

“I am... inevitable,” says Ushijima. “One game can’t stop me. Are you sure you want to fight me?”

“Then you have nothing to lose,” Suga screams like the unhinged banshee he is. 

Ushijima nods. “Okay, Sugawara. I hope they remember you.” 

From behind the bleachers Oikawa says, “He’s an absolute madman. He’s going to get himself killed.” 

Iwaizumi grimaces. “Come on Idiotkawa, we’ve got a job to do.” Iwaizumi and Oikawa hustle out of the gym leaving Suga alone on the court.

Best friends since childhood, Shittykawa and Iwa-chan were inseparable on both schoolyard and volleyball court. And here too, in the fiery bowels of Mt. Fuji, where Oikawa goes, Iwaizumi follows. 

“Cast it into the fire! Destroy it!” says Iwa-chan. 

The infinity knee guard dangles over the bubbling molten pit that is Mt. Fuji. Oikawa stands mesmerized by the ebb and flow of the boiling orange magma, arm extended precariously over the edge. Distantly, he’s aware that Iwaizumi is trying to talk to him but his brain can’t quite process it in light of the glowing pit before him. The knee pad is screaming. Oikawa Can feel it deep in his knee like a scar that aches before it rains long after the injury occurred. The knee pad begs. Pleads. Demands Oikawa step back and carry it safely down the mountain, destroying anything and everything that stands in their way. 

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi screams again. And then “TOORU!” 

_Kill him._ The knee pad commands and just like that Oikawa snaps out of it. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, broken. 

“Tooru for the love of volleyball throw that bitch into the fire.” 

_Kill him._ It says again. 

“I can’t do it, Hajime, not without you,” Tooru says and in one fluid motion he tosses the infinity knee pad into the air. Hajime moves automatically, bending at the knees and ankles before springing into the air and smacking the infinity knee pad into the pool of boiling rock and gas. The magma bubbles and hisses when the knee pad makes contact. It takes a moment but eventually the knee pad, and with it the power to destroy all they love, slips into the abyss. 

“We did it!” Oikawa screeches. 

“Fuck yeah we did!” yells Iwaizumi. 

Maybe it's the adrenaline. Maybe it’s because he feels invincible. It doesn’t really matter because regardless it’s something he’s wanted to do for as long as he can remember. Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa by the collar of his shirt and yanks unceremoniously until their bodies crash together. 

“Iwa-” but for once Oikawa shuts up because Iwaizumi is kissing him. 

Iwaizumi is kissing him and it’s both everything he’s ever wanted and everything he never knew he needed. Oikawa wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and tries to pull them closer still. 

“Hey, uh, guys?” says Asahi. 

Asahi had also made the journey up Mt. Fuji but Oikawa and Iwaizumi were too lost in the sauce, aka the inherent romantic tension of being in love with one’s childhood best friend, to notice. Asahi was initially grateful for this turn of events. Iwaizumi and Oikawa were, how to say this nicely, _loud._ And Asahi, though very accustomed to loud, would very much like some damn peace and quiet when possible.

Sure, with Oikawa and Iwaizumi still sucking face and completely forgetting that they didn’t arrive at the top of Mt. Fuji alone, it is _technically_ quieter, it isn’t what Asahi had in mind when he envisioned aforementioned peace and quiet. 

“Oh jeez,” says Asahi, bashfully rubbing his arm. “Maybe I should just go back down the mountain alone. I’m sure they’ll catch up.” 

Before Asahi can decide, Mt. Fuji decides for them. The mountain starts rumbling and burping, certainly suffering from food poisoning a la the infinity knee pad. Asahi can’t really blame it. There’s nothing quite so rank as a volleyball knee pad. 

“Guys?” he tries again. Mt. Fuji belches more hot sulfur. “If you guys have any intention of seeing your team again then we better boogie before Mt. Fuji decides our fate for us!” 

Iwaizuimi and Oikawa miraculously detach from each other. They peer into the volcano then back at Asahi. A moment passes in silence.

...

...

Then all three of them bolt out of the volcano like their lives depend on it because, this time, their lives _do_ depend on it.

Ushijima holds the ball in between his hands. “This won’t change anything, Suga. After I defeat you, I will climb Mt. Fuji and I will rip the infinity knee pad from Oikawa, reminding him all the while of how great he could have been if he’d only gone to Shiratorizawa. Nothing can stop me. Not you. Not Oikawa. Not Iwaizumi, Bokuto, or another volleyball player that’s ever played on these courts. I am,” he pauses. “I am inevitable.”

“We’ll see about that.” 

“Suga, don’t you see? The game needed to be balanced! It can be beautiful , perfectly balanced... on both sides of the net,” Ujushima pauses. “Why do you continue to fight? Any drop of volleyball blood spilt beyond here is an unnecessary loss. Give up Suga, and you’ll live to play another game.” 

Suga wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Nah. I can do this all day.” 

Suga slips, head jerking up as his knees take the fall, arms stretched. The ball connects, shooting back over the net and momentarily aligning with the sun. It's setting. Shadows encroach the court boundaries, closing in. Suga stumbles as he pushes himself onto his feet just as the crack of another one of Ushijima's spikes sends the ball straight down. Suga leaps, reaches, falls. The sound of the ball hitting the ground cracks his heart but does little to put out the fire in his veins.

Again, he staggers to his feet and sees Ushijima's calculative stare between the net's webbing, like a spider poised for the kill. Suga pants, sweat dripping into his eyes.

"Match point," Ushijima says. His tone is gentle like the breeze, but his eyes freeze like a storm. "What will you do? Where will you run?"

Suga huffs. He flashes a grin as he retrieves the ball. In his hands, it feels heavy. He's running out of time and out of moves, but he didn't fight this long just to give in now. He squeezes the ball in his hands as his grin pulls into a grimace.

"Suga!"

Suga's eyes widen. He turns toward the entrance, where a phantom figure stands. "Dai…?"

Daichi Sawamura stands at the edge of the court. His Karasuno jacket is draped over his shoulders and he crosses his arms, looking every bit the strong captain he once was. "On your left!" he warns and before Suga can gain his bearings a blur of orange rushes past, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Instinctively, Suga tosses the ball and the moment he hears it connect, he spins around. Hinata is still drifting down from his jump. Suga almost expects him not to touch the ground. Surely, it's a trick. A haunt. But Hinata turns and gives a bright smile as he punches the air. "ALL RIGHT!"

"Hinata…!" Suga chokes and runs forward. On the other side of the net, the ball hits the ground behind a stunned Ushijima. Suga ignores his stare as he collides into Hinata, taking him into his arms and sniffling. "Hinata! You…!" He pulls back, grabs Hinata's cheeks and begins surveying every inch of him. "Are you okay?"

"We're fine, Suga-san," Hinata assures him, awkwardly as Suga continues to prod him.

Suga stops. "...We?"

A sneaker squeaks against the court. "There are six players on a court." Kageyama steps forward. "You taught me that." Others fill in behind him. Suga spots Yamaguchi next, then Tsukishima, followed by Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita. 

And behind them, there are even more uniforms coming into view. It’s not just Karusuno backing Suga up there are uniforms and players appearing from other high schools: Seijou, Nekoma, Fukurodani, Itachiyama, Inarizaki, Dateko, and Johzenji. 

Akaashi, Kuroo, Bokuto, Kenma, Sakusa, Atsumu, Komori, Suna, and Osamu return. By what means, Suga doesn’t know but he doesn’t ask because he’s both grateful for their help and too awestruck by the return of his own team to give a damn. 

They line up, every school, every captain, setter, ace, middle blocker, pinch server. They’re all there. 

And they’re ready to fight. To defend. To bop it, twist it, pull it. But just when they’re ready to attack, the earth shakes. 

And they’re ready to fight. To defend. To bop it, twist it, pull it. But just when they’re ready to attack, the earth shakes. 

Mt. Fucking Fuji. 

Several things happen at once and Suga’s head spins trying to keep track of them all. Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Asahi burst into the gym at the same time that Ushijima falls to the ground without so much as a light tap on the shoulder. 

“It’s done!” Iwaizumi shouts.

“Infinity knee pad- yeeted in right into the volcano,” Oikawa says then he yanks Iwaizumi by the collar and drags him behind the bleachers. Suga smiles. Good for them. 

Then, from among the crowd of assembled volleyball avengers, a wild, red-haired figure bolts and doesn’t stop until he’s falling on his knees next to the prone form of Ushijima. 

“Is that?” Daichi stands shoulder to shoulder with Suga and right where he should be. 

Suga nods. “Uh-huh. The Guess Monster himself, Tendou Satori.” 

“What a plot twist,” Daichi scratches his head. “I don’t remember seeing Tendou in the weird volleyball purgatory but life is crazy like that I suppose.” Daichi rests his hands on his hips and sighs. “Real piece of work.” 

Tendou helps Ushijima sit up, holding onto him like he’s a fragile piece of art and not responsible for the near destruction of the world. 

“Wait,” Tendou says, addressing the crowd. “I know you all want Wakatoshi-kun’s head right now but hear me out.” 

Suga, to his surprise, doesn’t actually care anymore about what happens to Ushijima Wakatoshi. He has his crows back. He has Daichi. And with the infinity kneepad destroyed, Ushijima has no power left. He’s nothing more than an ordinary ace. Another volleyball player, just like the rest of them. 

“With great power comes poor decision making,” Suga says. “Just look at any politician ever for proof. Ushijima has no more power. I have no quarrel with him.” 

“Well shit Suga,” Komori whips off the sunglasses again. Dramatic neon, unripened banana asshole. But like, the loveable kind. “That was almost as sexy as Shakespeare. It’s no ‘et tú brute’ but like damn, I felt that.” Komori puts the shades back on. 

Suga takes a deep breath, takes Daichi’s hand in his own, then turns to face the rest of his team, his crows. “Pork buns are on me tonight!”

**Author's Note:**

> so how did you cope with 2020? we wrote this. 
> 
> ps if you know nat and I and have a guess for who wrote which parts, pls I am dying to hear them


End file.
